


Antisaint

by gemzies



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Aggression, Anger, Angst, Arguing, Confessions, Finn Balor is an asshole, Insecurity, Kayfabe Compliant, M/M, Seth doesn't know what to think at first, basically there are a whole lot of emotions flying around here, happy ending I think?, it gets a bit heated, kind of open-ended, personality changes, possibly a couple tiny liberties with canon, potential mention of cheating on a significant other, reconnecting, set around survivor series 2019, venting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:02:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22357630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gemzies/pseuds/gemzies
Summary: He started to shut the door, but Seth stuck his foot out to stop it before it could slam in his face. “What do you want?” Finn growled through clenched teeth, leaning in angrily towards the younger man.“Please,” Seth begged. “I need your advice.”---It's the night before Survivor Series, and Seth Rollins is desperate. He turns to the one man he could always trust, but the Finn Bálor he finds himself talking to isn't the same Finn Bálor he thought he knew. Or is it?
Relationships: Finn Balor | Prince Devitt/Seth Rollins | Tyler Black
Comments: 6
Kudos: 23





	Antisaint

**Author's Note:**

> Title inspired by both men's current characters, the demon, and the Chevelle song of the same name.

Seth almost walked away about six times before finally managing to steel his nerves. The temptation to run out into the Chicago night and try to deal with his problems on his own was strong, but he kept returning to the spot he currently found himself in. ‘ _I’ve talked to him hundreds of times,’_ he told himself again as he stood in front of the hotel room door. He tried to convince himself it would be like nothing had changed, and even though he didn’t quite believe that, he finally took a deep breath and knocked.

It took maybe 30 seconds for someone to answer, but to Seth it felt like forever. He braced himself as he heard the sound of the deadbolt being unlatched. But even with that he still wasn’t quite prepared for what greeted him.

Finn Bálor flung the door open, the momentary surprise in his blue eyes giving way to suspicion almost immediately. “The fuck are you doing here, Rollins?”

The words felt like ice as they hit Seth’s ears, and for a moment he was left completely speechless. He stared at the man in front of him almost in shock before shaking himself out of it. “I wanted… uh… I wanted to talk to you,” he finally stammered out.

There was a moment of silence as Finn’s eyes narrowed, and Seth still couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. Physically, Finn was still the same man, though maybe with a few more tattoos. His hair was a bit shorter but it was still the same brown, same neatly trimmed beard, same hooded eyes, and the low-hanging sweatpants and lack of shirt revealed the same toned physique.

But as far as Seth was concerned, he was looking at a stranger. The friendly smile that had always been waiting for him was nowhere to be found. The body that had always seemed relaxed and calm when they were together was wound up like a snake and ready to strike. Sky blue eyes that Seth once thought contained the sun itself were cold, calculating, and almost unrecognizable.

It was Finn. But it wasn’t _his_ Finn.

“How the Hell did you get my room number?”

The venom in Finn’s voice snapped Seth back to reality. “Um, I asked Becky,” he replied quietly. He looked down at the carpet as he spoke, studying the ugly pattern to avoid making eye contact. Becky Lynch was one of the few people in WWE that Finn still communicated with, and Seth knew that he risked ruining a friendship between the two that had lasted over fifteen years by admitting she had told him where to find him. He never could lie to Finn, though.

Finn mumbled something in Gaelic under his breath. “That little…”

“Finn,” Seth said quickly to cut the Irishman off. He didn’t really want to find out what Finn was about to call his fiancé.

Finn glared at him. He started to shut the door, but Seth stuck his foot out to stop it before it could slam in his face. “ _What_ do you _want_?” Finn growled through clenched teeth, leaning in angrily towards the younger man. For a split-second Seth could have sworn he saw those beautiful blue eyes flash black.

“Please,” Seth begged. “I need your advice.” The desperation that had led him to his (former?) friend’s door at 2:30am, after said friend had wrestled a grueling match at TakeOver: War Games III earlier that evening, seeped into his voice despite his efforts to contain it.

Finn’s eyebrows shot up so high Seth briefly expected them to fly off his face. “My advice?” He asked, as if he had misheard.

Seth nodded. “Yes. Please,” he pled again.

Finn moved back slightly. His eyes traveled up and down Seth’s body before again meeting his eyes, as if in appraisal of both the situation and the man standing in front of him. The older man held his gaze for a moment, then smirked. “You look like shit,” he quipped.

Then he stepped back, pulled the door open again, and waved Seth into the room.

***

Seth walked in and stood in the middle of the room. He wasn’t completely sure what to do now, as a part of him was surprised that Finn had conceded to let him in in the first place. He was almost expecting to get thrown out before either man uttered a word and wasn’t sure if he should bother sitting down or not.

Finn shut the door behind them and slowly began circling Seth. He was like a cat circling his prey, never once taking his eyes off the younger man as he methodically made his way around him. “Now, what could possibly have Mr. Monday Night Raw so rattled that he came crawling to _me_ for advice?” he sneered.

The tone in the other man’s Irish lilt was one that Seth had never heard before. It made his skin crawl. “I just… I don’t know what went wrong,” he answered. He looked down at his hands as they twisted anxiously in front of him. “I don’t know what I did wrong,” he clarified. His voice cracked slightly as he spoke, and he hoped Finn hadn’t picked up on it. When he looked up a second later, he knew instantly that he had.

Finn came to a stop in front of Seth and looked him dead in the eye. Seth might have been the taller of the two, but the way Finn was looking at him made him feel incredibly small, the steel in his eyes seemingly piercing through to Seth’s very soul. The Irishman took a step forwards, closing the distance between them without once breaking eye contact. “Well, well, well,” he said, reaching forwards and placing a hand in the center of Seth’s chest. Seth’s heart pounded under his touch, and a wicked grin spread across red lips to alert Seth that Finn could feel it. “How the tables have turned.” Finn pushed back against Seth, walking him backwards until his knees hit the edge of the bed.

The older man removed his hand from Seth’s chest as Seth sat down, and patted him on the cheek condescendingly. Seth glared at Finn briefly, but his overall discomfort with this version of the man he thought he knew kept it from having any heat behind it.

Finn snickered as he backed away. “Remember our little chat after Summerslam, Seth?” he asked, stopping about five feet from where the younger man sat. “You were the conquering hero, right? Winning the title to a roar of adulation from the crowd.” Finn’s words dripped with sarcasm, getting under Seth’s skin in what he assumed was exactly the way he wanted them to. “Meanwhile I was sat having a damn existential crisis, wasn’t I?”

Seth nodded despite the question being rhetorical. He didn’t trust himself to speak and he swallowed hard, unsure of where this was headed.

“Yeah. Do you remember what you said to me that night?” Seth shook his head. Finn snorted. “You said, ‘Everything will be fine, Finn, the fans love you.’” He gave a small chuckle, pacing back and forth across the worn carpet until he abruptly stopped in front of Seth yet again. “Let me tell you something, Seth Rollins. The fans never gave a damn about me,” he hissed. He stomped over so that he was directly in front of Seth again, leaning down into his space until their faces were just inches apart, blue eyes full of icy fire. “So tell me, Beast-slayer,” he spat. “What exactly makes _you_ any different?”

Seth averted his eyes downward for a moment, needing a break from the intensity of Finn’s eyes and the closeness of his breath. When he looked up again, he found Finn’s head tilted slightly to the side as he waited for an answer. “That’s not…” he started.

Finn cut him off. “What, gonna tell me that’s not true? You going to repeat that same line about the fans, like some fucking broken record?” he said as he stood upright. He didn’t move away from Seth’s space, looking down into his eyes, towering over him. “Where were those fans that love me so much at Summerslam, hmm? They were cheering the fact that I got my arse handed to me, weren’t they,” he began, his accent growing thicker as he ranted. “What about Money in the Bank? Sure, there were a few people who wanted me to win, just like they wanted Ali, or Ricochet, or even McIntyre to win. But you heard the way the arena exploded when that music hit, didn’t you, Seth? The way they all cheered for the man that screwed me over, that screwed us all over…” he trailed off, leaning over again and placing a pointed finger in the middle of Seth’s chest. “The man that eventually screwed _you_ over when he won that briefcase.” His voice was low, but the words still cut through Seth like a knife.

The Irishman removed his hand and moved away from Seth again, backing up until he was leaning – almost sitting – on the dresser by the door. He folded his arms over his chest and studied the younger man for a moment before shaking his head. “We’re not people to them, Seth,” he continued, turning his head to look through open curtains at the lights of the Chicago skyline. “We’re things. Objects. A cheap thrill ride to be enjoyed for a moment before moving on to the next one.” He sounded resigned, as if he’d long ago accepted this as the truth. His eyes narrowed again as he once again made eye contact with Seth. “And you’re delusional if you think there won’t be a next one,” he said.

Seth was dumbfounded. The words sounded foreign coming from Finn. Hadn’t he been the one to preach ‘Bálor Club for Everyone’? Didn’t he once stand in the middle of the ring and essentially tell Vince McMahon himself to kiss off because the fans believed in him? Where was all of this coming from?

“Let’s see.” Finn unfolded his arms and held up a finger. “Punk took Cena’s spot,” he started, counting off on his fingers as he went. “Bryan took Punk’s when he took off, Roman took Bryan’s, and you know damn well the only reason you took Roman’s is because I wasn’t there to do it myself,” he snapped.

Seth felt the blood drain from his face while he watched as inky black flooded crystal eyes again. He’d apologized so many times for the shoulder injury at Summerslam 2016. Finn had forgiven him immediately. Bálor never did.

Finn’s eyes cleared back to their normal color as he kept going. “The Fiend has taken your title.” The wicked grin from earlier reappeared, too many teeth and an almost sadistic edge to it. “And now, it’s only a matter of time before someone takes your spot at the top of Raw. So, what are you going to do about it?” he concluded.

Indignation filled Seth at the way the older man was challenging him, and he stood up angrily. “Who the Hell do you think you are?” he exclaimed.

Finn smirked again and re-folded his arms. “So you do have a backbone, eh Rollins?”

That only served to fuel Seth’s rising fury. He walked over until he was about a foot from Finn, brown eyes blazing as they stared down into his. “Is that why you ran away, Finn? Why you went crawling back to NXT? Because you couldn’t…”

The sound of the slap in his ears was almost worse than the sting of Finn’s hand hitting his cheek. He stumbled backwards, clutching his face while his eyes widened in shock.

Finn looked at him with a cold stare, an eerily blank expression on the rest of his face. “Is that what you think, Seth?” he questioned, with all the calm of a tea kettle about to boil over. “You think I ran away?”

Seth sat back down on the edge of the bed and nodded. His cheek felt like it was on fire, and he worked his jaw a little to make sure everything was still in place.

Finn laughed, a shrill, almost hysterical laughter that if Seth hadn’t known better almost sounded like two different voices. “Oh no. I didn’t run from anything,” he stated. He stood up and started pacing again, fists clenched as his breath began to quicken. “Do you have any idea how absolutely maddening the last few years have been for me?” he asked. “Forcing myself to be calm, to wait my turn. That damn smile covering my face like a mask, keeping the King at bay so that the Prince could stay hidden until the right moment.” He again stopped in front of Seth, but this time he kept his distance. “I was biding my time,” he asserted. “When Hunter and Regal came to me with the idea, I knew the time had finally come. _My moment_ had finally come,” he said, pointing at his own chest. “I didn’t go back because I couldn’t hack it, Rollins, no, no. I returned to NXT to remind the world of exactly who I am, _to_ _reclaim my throne_. And you best be sure that the Prince will destroy _anyone_ who gets in my way, just like I did to that little rat Gargano.”

Finn’s threatening baritone as those last words left his lips chilled Seth to the bone, and he shivered despite himself. He swallowed again as he looked at the man in front of him. “I…” he started, not sure what he could say in response to that.

Finn shook his head again, but the small smile that accompanied it almost felt warm compared to the frigid look he’d given Seth earlier. “Why are you here, Seth?” he asked softly, returning to his position against the dresser.

Seth took a deep breath. He exhaled heavily, looking down at his hands as they folded in his lap. “I guess… I feel like everything is out of control,” he confessed. “I don’t know what happened or how it happened, but everything is up in the air and everyone hates me, and I have no clue what to do about it.” The words rushed out of his mouth once he started talking, and he felt a small bit of relief just from finally getting all of it off his chest. He looked up at Finn finally, and sighed as he was met with yet another blank expression. He wasn’t used to him shutting him out like that. “I couldn’t think of anyone else I could talk to who might understand,” he finished, biting his lower lip as if he regretted saying it as soon as he did.

Finn nodded, letting Seth know he got it. His eyes softened slightly, a familiar light starting to creep back in much to Seth’s relief. “You think everyone hates you?” he asked, clearly amused by the idea.

“Everyone _does_ hate me, Finn,” he retorted. “I’m getting booed out of the damn building every night, for Christ’s sake! Hunter won’t even look at me after I turned him down for Survivor Series, and the locker room won’t take me seriously…” He stopped himself, noticing his body begin to shake from the combination of emotions flowing through his body.

Finn hummed, seemingly deep in thought after listening to what the younger man had to say. “Well, the so-called _fans_ aren’t worth the time of day, so don’t worry about them,” Finn commented. “And we both know what Hunter is like, he’ll hold a grudge until the next time he needs something. Give him a few weeks and he’ll come to you like nothing happened.”

Seth muttered a small affirmation. He had a point about Hunter. It was part of what made the man so successful but also incredibly dangerous, one of the many reasons he’d earned the nickname The Game.

“Now what’s this about the locker room?” Finn quizzed, prompting Seth to continue.

Seth sighed again. “No one will listen to me,” he admitted, almost ashamed. “Like, I know I fucked up when I lost the title to the Fiend. But he’s on Smackdown now, and fucking Lesnar has the WWE Championship, and it’s like no one cares. No one in the back gives a damn that the top champion on Raw is never there _again_ , and not one single person in the locker room gives a fuck about the way that’s going to affect the brand,” he vented. “I keep trying to rally everyone, keep trying to get people to _care_ , and it’s like I’m talking to an empty room.” Anger coursed through his veins as he spoke, staring a hole in the carpet in front of him as if he could ignite it with his gaze. “I worked my _ass_ off to get that damn red belt back on Raw. Why isn’t anyone else taking the same initiative now?” he finished. His fists began to clench and unclench in an attempt to calm himself down.

Finn stroked his beard. “It’s been awhile since I’ve been on Raw,” he said quietly. “But when I _was_ there, you were one of the only people who seemed to give a shit. And I can’t speak for anyone else, Seth, but I respected that.”

Seth dragged his head up to look at Finn, almost startled by the fond look on his face. “You did?” he marveled.

Finn smiled, the first genuine smile Seth had seen from him in ages, though it faded quickly. “I did. And if others don’t respect it? Make them.” His eyes narrowed again, but instead of the fire that he’d felt burning through him earlier Seth saw what looked like determination there. He also thought he saw the tiniest bit of black seeping in around the irises. “If the locker room won’t accept you as the leader you are, you give them no choice but to do so,” he snarled. “Show them why they need you, and if they won’t take you seriously you make them regret it.” Finn licked his lips, lowering his head slightly so he was looking up at Seth through hooded lids. “If they won’t listen to your words, _make them bend to your will_ ,” the Irishman demanded.

Seth replayed the words in his head a few times. The more he did, the more they began to make sense to him. “Maybe…” he considered quietly, slowly imagining various scenarios, the mental images sending a sick thrill through his body.

“Do you love her?”

Seth’s attention snapped back to Finn at the unexpected question. “What?”

Finn pushed himself off the dresser. “Becky. Do you love her?” he asked again. He took a few steps towards the seated man, one eyebrow quirked slightly.

If Finn had asked him that question even a few hours ago, he would have said yes without hesitation. But after the conversation they’d just had, now thinking about the way his fiancé was still so loved while he was treated like dirt… he found himself unable to respond.

Finn closed the gap between the two of them, leaning down and placing an unexpectedly gentle kiss on Seth’s lips. Seth responded immediately, returning the kiss as he felt hands on either side of his face. He reached around Finn’s waist, pulling him in until he was sitting on his lap. This felt so right to Seth, and as he felt a tongue lick against his bottom lip suddenly everything clicked into place. This _was_ his Finn, it had always been his Finn. He just needed to remember who he himself was to be able to recognize him.

After a few minutes Finn pulled away, breathless, and leaned his forehead against Seth’s. He looked deep into the younger man’s eyes, a look of adoration there that Seth hadn’t seen in months. It made his heart flip. “You know what you need to do, love,” the man whispered as he leaned back to plant a soft peck to his temple.

Seth nodded. “Yes,” he murmured, reaching up to pull Finn in for another kiss. “I know exactly what I need to do.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
